


Keep the Breaks at Bay

by samalander



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wouldn't be Smash if he didn't need a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the Breaks at Bay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoinautumn (maybetwice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybetwice/gifts).



> Happy yuletide, echoinautumn! It's not much, but I hope you enjoy this little moment, and the men Smash and Eric both become.
> 
> Title from "Father's Day" by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers.  
>  _And if you're looking for advice my dear_  
>  _I have nothing to say_  
>  _I am always at a loss for words_  
>  _When you look at me that way_  
>  _But the bruises keep the breaks at bay_  
>  _On Father's Day_
> 
> With thanks to M for the beta. <3

The most surprising thing, for Eric, is how normal it all seems.

He gets calls, of course. Jason or Tim, Vince sometimes, even Luke sends him a Christmas card from whatever piece of sand he's perched on. Hell, he's not sure how to make Matt Saracen stop calling, or how to get Lance to stop sending him damn birthday cards full of glitter.

But Smash-- Brian now, Brian Williams burning up everyone's fantasy league-- rarely contacts him. Eric doesn't know if the boy is embarrassed about what an idiot he was, or what, but they were all idiots. They were 16. It was in the job description.

So one midsummer evening, when Eric comes home from a two-a-day, there's a note on the message pad from Tami.

("Why do you still have a house phone?" Julie had asked, last time she visited. "What's the point when you both have cell phones?" Eric didn't tell her that it was so his players could get him when they needed him, so that the late-night door knocks could keep coming. She knew. She grew up in his house. She had to know.)

Eric smiles at the note. It's good to see Brian's name on the pad. Good to see he still knows how to dial a phone, that all those big hits on the field aren't scrambling his brain too bad.

The area code is Dillon, which Eric thinks is weird, but so is Julie's and she lives in Chicago. Kids and their cellphones, he thinks, shaking his head. Can't be bothered to get a decent local area code, act like maybe they want to stay and put down roots. And old men and their nostalgia and their gray hair at the temples, griping about it.

Eric dials, and Smash's voice has a smile in it when he answers. Coach tries not to let his relief bleed into his voice.

"This is Eric Taylor," he says, running his hand along the bristly hairs on the back of his head. "I heard some idiot on the Patriots was looking for me?"

"Coach!" Brian laughs. "What, has Tom been blowing up your phone?"

"Once a week," Eric laughs. "Tryin' to figure out what to do with you."

"Ain't no one know what to do with The Smash!" Brian says, and Coach thinks that, but for the fact that he's on TV once a week, this kid hasn't changed a whit.

"How's your momma?" Eric says, rolling his eyes at the bravado. 

"Mom's good," Brian says. "Working up here now, keeping an eye on me. I bought her a house, like I said. And Sheila and Noannie are good. Both in school. How're your girls?"

"Everyone's doing just fine. Just fine. Gracie's in school, and I know you know Julie and Matt are in Chicago."

"I heard that," Smash says, a bit of a smirk in his voice. "The quarterback and the coach's daughter."

"Whachu want?" Eric asks, trying to stop Smash from saying something they'll both regret in about twenty seconds.

"Well," Brian's voice sounds small for a moment, far away. Eric thinks it might be that same anxiety he heard the night at the Alamo Freeze, the night Smash tried to quit on him. "You don't have to say yes to this okay? I just, I have to ask."

Eric raises an eyebrow and sits at the kitchen table, bracing himself for another Smashtastrophe. "Ask."

"Tomorrow, you're gonna hear on ESPN, I think. Or ESPN2. Or the internet, I don't know. It's going out there. I got a-- I'm gonna be a dad."

Eric is very, very glad he's sitting.

"She's a good lady," Brian says. "Not a groupie or nothin'. Her name's Kya. We've been together a few years now. You may've seen her, um, when I won the Doak Walker? At the banquet?"

"I saw pictures, yeah," Eric says, trying to remember something more than a big smile on Smash's face, and the surge of pride in his chest. "How come I never met this girl?"

Smash laughs. "Well, you wanna? Cause we're havin' a boy, and a boy needs a godfather."

"You gonna marry this Kya?" Eric asks, keeping a bit of steel in his voice to hide the tears that threaten to spill onto his cheeks. "Cause I don't want my godson growing up in a broken home."

"You don't have a godson yet," Brian says, the smile back in his voice. "But yeah. Her parents are coming in from Seattle in a few weeks to do that. And if you and Mrs. Coach wanted to come."

Eric shakes his head. "You know you're doin' this all backwards, right?"

"Come on," Brian says. "I was never gonna do it frontwards."

"Never did anything frontwards," Eric grumbles. "'Cept run the ball." 

Smash laughs, and Eric takes a second to think before he nods. It was never really a question, he knows. As soon as the phone connected, the answer was going to be yes. "I'll be the godfather. And I gotta check with my wife, but you send us an invitation, and we'll come to your shotgun wedding."

"Yeah?"

"You asked me to come, I'll come," Eric says. These boys and their doubt. Like they don't know he loves them as much as they love him. Like they have no clue how much he cares. "You two registered?"

"We need shotgun shells," Brian says. "For her dad."

"Don't be smart with me," Coach tell him, but he's laughing, glad that this is a happy call. "And congratulations. You know it's work?"

"Coach," Brian says, his voice low and a little sad. "My whole life's been work. Why do you think I want you to be around again?"

Eric nods, opening his mouth to say something when the front door opens, and Tami calls out for him to help with the groceries.

"Listen," Eric says. "That's _my_ work, following me home. You gonna send an invitation?"

"Yes, sir," Brian says. "Go help your wife."

"Go help yours," Eric shoots back. "And I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," Smash agrees. "Bye, Coach. And-- thanks. For saying yes."

Eric doesn't say anything to that, just puts the antiquated phone back in its cradle and stands to kiss Tami when she comes in.

"You on the phone?" she asks, sliding a bag of food onto the counter. 

"Smash Williams," Eric says.

"Oh," Tami smiles, but he can see the wariness on her face, the same Smash-anxiety that he felt seeing the name. "How's he? And how's Coretta?"

"Coretta's good," Eric tells her. "Smash is getting married and having a kid, and he wants me to be godfather."

"Babe!" Tami laughs, her eyes wide. "That's-- did you say yes?"

"I did, yeah," Eric tells her.

"Good," she says, turning to unpack the groceries. "You gonna go get Gracie Bell from soccer practice?"

Eric can't help but wrap his arms around Tami's waist and kiss her cheek. "Yeah, I'll get Gracie. But I still don't know why she's playing soccer."

Tami laughs and turns in his embrace, swatting his chest playfully. "Groceries," she says. "Daughter. Then we'll talk about Smash, and soccer, and all the other life-changing decisions you made without me."

"Oh, yeah," Eric laughs, picking up his hat before he heads out the doors. "I tell you Julie's decided to marry Lance instead of Matt?"

"Great," she calls back, and Eric heads out the door with laughter in his ears.


End file.
